


Ceremonies

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-13
Updated: 2008-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1642064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was surprising how easy it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ceremonies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta merricatk and gattagrigia. 
> 
> Written for Llwyden

 

 

They got back from the ceremony and celebration, and all Vinnie wanted to do was sleep. He was trying hard not to think about Joey or how close he came to getting made, and between that and the Burning of the Saint and the drinking that had gone on after, he was about ready to drop. Sonny, however, was almost bouncing as they entered Vinnie's apartment.

"So, how's it feel to be a made man?" Sonny asked, walking over to the bar and starting to pour himself a drink.

Vinnie flinched inside, but didn't let it show on his face. "Pretty much the same as being an unmade man, but with more blisters," Vinnie said, holding up his slightly scorched hand.

Actually, it had reminded Vinnie a lot of his Confirmation: standing there with a suit, lots of ritual and call-and-answer rote, and trying not to laugh with his best friend over how solemn everyone else was about it.

The main differences were that his suit was a lot more expensive now, and there was better liquor at the party afterward. And he was actually allowed to drink it, this time.

"Aw, poor Vincenzo," Sonny said, laughing at him. "I had no idea you were so delicate."

Vinnie flipped him the bird, but smiled as he sank down onto the couch with a groan.

"Old man, too," Sonny tsked, still smiling as he sat down next to Vinnie taking a sip of his bourbon.

"You must be Methuselah, if I'm old," Vinnie scoffed. He put his head back on the couch, but turned so that he could watch Sonny smile at him. "And why is it this is my special night, but only you get a drink?"

Sonny held out his glass. "Fine, have some."

Vinnie had seen Sonny look at him like that a few times, and he knew where it would lead. Vinnie could feel his own pulse race, wide awake now. His brain clamored, shouting at him that this was a supremely bad idea. Like the previous times, he told it to shut up and sit down as he reached for the glassâ"but Sonny not letting goâ"guiding it to his lips, their eyes locked.

It should have felt portentous, Vinnie thought as Sonny leaned over to set the glass on the coffeetable before reaching out. It should have felt like bad romance or bad porn. It should have felt wrong.

"It feels like Sonny," Vinnie thought hazily as they reached for each other at the same time.

***

The first time was after a sparring match. They'd gone back to the car after their showers, bone-tired and keyed-up, and between the window going up between them and the driver and Vinnie's next breath, Sonny was on him, passionate, forceful, and demanding.

Vinnie kissed back for a minute and then pushed Sonny back. "This part of the job?" he gasped, trying to look at Sonny's eyes and not his mouth. "This what I have to do for the clothes and the apartment?"

Sonny didn't seem offended, but smirked instead. "You obviously never saw my last driver, you think that's what the position entails." He leaned in again, biting another kiss into his mouth as the car started to move, then pulled back to stare into Vinnie's eyes, pulling Vinnie's hand down to cover his own crotch.

"This is what you gotta do because you want it, Vincenzo," he said quietly, fiercely, voice filled with certainty.

Vinnie had been shocked how easy it was.

***

The second time had been after Vinnie's mother had gotten out of the hospital. Vinnie had still been riding a happiness high over his mother being okay and talking to him again, he didn't even care how fucked up the rest of his life had been getting.

He only paused to lock the door when he came into Sonny's office that time, and went immediately to his knees in front of Sonny's chair.

"Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie," Sonny chanted as Vinnie opened his pants, a hand already in his hair. But he tugged him back, just as he was about to bend over Sonny's lap. "You don't have to do this."

Vinnie grabbed the back of Sonny's head and kissed him hard before pulling back. "Like you said, I do it because I want it."

***

Vinnie had Sonny against the wall for a moment, running his teeth down Sonny's throat while Sonny's hands were trying to tear Vinnie's jacket off. He should have kept them going to the bedroom, but Sonny's hands made it impossible to walk, and his giggles just made Vinnie laugh in turn, so the pause was necessary on a number of levels.

Vinnie tried to get them going again. "Hey, Methuselah, come on. You're too old to deal with rug burn when there's a nice, soft bed just over there."

Sonny laughed out loud, and Vinnie didn't know what had gotten into him, but he liked it, even as he tried to stop Sonny from pulling him down to the floor. Sonny stuck his hand down the front of Vinnie's pants, almost purring in self-satisfaction.

"I don't know, you may want to get it while I'm still breathing. Gather rosebuds and all that crap."

"Seriously, Sonny," he said, walking backwards into the room and dragging him while holding Sonny's wrist in one hand--though he wasn't even sure if he was trying to pull his hand out or keep it where it was. "Bed."

***

Back before prison, before he'd even met Stan, he'd been taking his classes at Quantico, all part of the training for new agents. In between the usual self-defense and weapons training and criminology, he'd had a course where they discussed the various aspects of deep-cover work.

"Someday, you'll find yourself feeling sympathy for your target," the instructor, who looked sympathetic and like he'd never been in the field a day in his life, forget about undercover, said. "That's natural. Your job is to get inside the target's life, to find out how to get close to the target to get the information needed. Sympathy is a normal human reaction. But you have to keep in mind that the target is a criminal, and keep your goals in the forefront of your thoughts."

The instructor--and the thick file Vinnie had studied on Sonny before he'd gone to that restaurant over a year ago--talked about the criminality of the "target" over and over again. But no one had told Vinnie that Sonny ate at high priced restaurants, but hated leafy greens and pouted if they appeared on his plate. No one told him Sonny never bet on the horses or played cards, but cheated outrageously at handball, and the games always turned into Who Can Cheat More. Everyone told him how ruthless Sonny was, but no one told him that he was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and loyalty from others was valued above all. No one told him Sonny laughed during sex, and would sooner die than cuddle, but he'd look at Vinnie after and his eyes on him felt better than any arms holding him ever had.

Vinnie was a long way from being an emotional, impulsive teenager, no matter what McPike thought. He knew the difference between sex and love and the difference between love and sympathy. He'd felt a lot of things towards Sonny, but none of them could have been classified as sympathy.

And it was at least a year since he thought of Sonny as the Target.

***

They fell on the bed, turning over and over, neither willing to give in to the other, and neither willing to stop kissing long enough to argue about it.

Despite the adrenaline and desire, Vinnie was still too tired and just a little too drunk to do anything particularly complicated, so the friction as they wrestled together on the sheets, grasping at each other with desperation was enough for him. It was apparently enough for Sonny, too, who was on top at the point where he threw his head back and gasped, wetness spreading across Vinnie's stomach, as Vinnie threw his own head back.

***

Sonny laid back on the pillows, watching Vinnie lie there and breathe. Vinnie might have been awake--Sonny didn't think he'd fallen asleep, his forearm stretched above him--but it didn't really matter. Sonny liked to look at Vinnie sometimes, and Vinnie never seemed to mind.

Sonny wasn't sure how they'd gotten there. He had a strict policy about sleeping with the help. The casino workers didn't count, as they were far enough away from his daily business not to disrupt things too much if things went south. But the people in his office, the ones driving him, the ones fighting with him against the world were never, never options. It was stupid on any number of levels.

The thing is, Vinnie wasn't like anyone else, he thought as he settled further back into the pillows. Vinnie had brains most people would never give him credit for. He also had balls the size of a Volkswagen, which Sonny had decided the day Vinnie showed up to their "duel" after tossing soup all over him.

It had also been years since anyone had teased him, gently mocked and laughed with him at the same time. Most people were afraid to or were too busy sucking up to even consider it. Vinnie, though, did it without thinking, with warmth and humor that Sonny hadn't even known he was missing until now.

Vinnie was also good at what he did. Together, Sonny was sure they could take on the world, princes of their shining domain.

"Hey," Sonny said softly, sliding down and nudging his knee against Vinnie's hip. "Why don't we go out to Coney Island tomorrow? Hit the roller coaster, grab a Nathan's, that kind of thing. I haven't been out there in years."

Vinnie, who was apparently mostly asleep, mumbled something Sonny chose to hear as an affirmative, and turned onto his side facing Sonny.

Sonny reached out and touched his hair. "You and me," he said, and let his hand fall between them.

 


End file.
